


The Care and Keeping of Your Hell-Beast

by TheDiamondSword400



Series: Gifts from below [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby Singer, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Bobby Singer in a Wheelchair, Bobby Singer is a Dog Lover, Cute Animals, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Siblings, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Dean Winchester is So Done, Dean Winchester is a dork, Explicit Language, Family, Original Character(s) mentioned, Parental Bobby Singer, Pet Names, Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester are Idiots, Supernatural Pets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 09:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Summary: Sam and Dean may have decided to keep the dog but actually living with it would hold an entirely new set of challenges.





	The Care and Keeping of Your Hell-Beast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Byohazrd13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byohazrd13/gifts).

> The first chapter of this story is dedicated to Byohazrd13 for helping me come up with a name for the Hell-pup. Thank you so much!

“So Lucifer himself gives you a beast from the literal pits of hell and you two idjits decided to keep it.” Bobby exclaimed, incredulous and and red faced.  
Sam and Dean flushed and shifted uncomfortably before him as they traded an uncomfortable look.   
The two had shown up twenty minutes ago, frazzled and desperate. Bobby had drawn his shotgun and refused to even let them on his porch when he had seen what Sam was carrying in his arms.   
The tiny white creature had stared at the older hunter with unblinking red eyes throughout the brothers explaining its presence.  
Bobby shot the hell-mutt a narrow-eyed look. Despite the three heads, glowing red eyes and the god-awful howl it had unleashed upon arrival, it was rather cute. It looked like little more then a fluffy white puddle cradled against the younger Winchester's chest.  
“Look, Sam's always wanted a dog. What was I supposed to do when when one is literally dropped off at our door?” Dean demanded, spreading his arms defensively.  
Bobby had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. The idjit was actually proud of his lame ass argument “You get rid of it and buy him a Labrador like a normal person.” Bobby grumbled under his breath.   
Dean's face fell, clearly cluing in onto how dumb that argument had been and he glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who shrugged unhelpfully.  
The fact that Dean had stepped between him and the younger man when he caught sight of the gun was the only reason Bobby hadn't shot first and asked questions later. It had made him hesitate in pulling the trigger.   
Because he sure as hell could think of only two reasons for Dean turning himself into a human shield and neither made a lick of sense. Either he thought the older hunter would shot Sam, which was a load of crap and Dean would have to be brain-damaged to even consider.  
Or he was protecting the dog.  
Dean Winchester protecting a Hell Hound.  
Not even two years after he had been ripped apart by a pack of the suckers.  
Honestly he had thought there was nothing that would surprise him after the whole divine revelation a year ago.  
He shook his head and gave a long suffering sigh “Right. Well, I can't have you two nitwits loitering about all day. Get in here.” with that he wheeled his chair around and reentered his house.  
Sam and Dean hesitated a moment before following.   
Bobby watched out of the corner of his eye as the two stomped up the steps. A couple of years ago he had spray painted a devil's trap on the porch roof. If the fluffy monster qualified as a demon Sam wouldn't even make it to the door and would have to leave the blasted thing outside anyway. If it was able to get inside he'd just have to go from there. Oddly enough the amount of religious solicitors he had dropping by had lessened dramatically at about the same time he had drawn the thing.  
That always gave him a good chuckle.  
He watched curiously as Sam crossed the porch with the hell-hound, passing right under the devil's trap. The erect ears on the left head twitched and the right head gave a little sneeze as the creature passed through. But otherwise it gave no other reaction and Sam entered unhindered.  
Huh. Seemed the little monster didn't qualify as a demon.  
Bobby turned and wheeled himself into his living room.   
The pair followed. Dean dropping into a chair with an exhausted moan while Sam sank down on to the couch, settling the Hell-mutt in his lap.  
The right-most head yawned and flopped down on to his jean clad knee while the left glanced around the room curiously, erect ears flicking back and forth.  
No unholy beast of perdition had any right being so gosh darn cute.  
“Alright then,” he said, firmly redirecting his attention to the eldest of the two men “you said the devil left you a note when he gave you the mutt. You still got it?”  
“Uh, yeah.” Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope. He rose to hand it over to the older hunter then fell back into his chair.  
Bobby frowned thoughtfully as he turned it over in his hand. It was made out of simple basic card-stock. He opened the envelope and drew the letter out.   
He felt his eyebrow quirk in surprise. He would never have pegged Satan to be someone with such fancy handwriting. What was written was even more curious.  
“A bribe?” he glanced back up at the brothers “Lucifer really tried to bribe you into saying yes with a dog?”  
Sam shifted his weight “At least he's not trying to kill us.”  
Dean stiffened a bit in his chair. The fact that that sounded more like a question then a statement killed something inside him.  
He sighed and slapped his palms on the arms of his chair “Right-” he broke off when one of the sets of glowing red eyes snapped towards him at the sound, growling. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing “Right. The reason we're here is was that we were wondering if you had any ideas about what to do with it.” He waved a hand towards the hell-mutt in Sam's lap and quickly jerked the limb back to his side when one of the heads darted out to take a bite out of the appendage. Sam quickly grabbed it by the shoulders and forced it back down on his lap, wrapping his hands around the small body to hold it in place. Dean curled his arm protectively against his chest and stared at the creature with wide eyes  
“You two seriously want to keep something that wants to eat you?” Bobby looked between them doubtfully. His voice no longer held its previous incredulous tone because it was pretty clear the two were set on doing just that. Pair of stubborn morons, the both of them. Just like their old man.  
Sam winced “Uh, we were also wondering – since you have owned dogs in the past- if you knew of anyway to get it to stop trying to kill Dean whenever he gets within a foot of it.”  
If he rolled his eyes any harder they'd fall out of his head. Bobby raised his eyes to the heavens and let out a long suffering sigh. If Sam and Dean were anything like the Archangels they were supposed to be vessels for he was starting to understand why God had split at the first opportunity “There isn't exactly any books on training hell-beasts.” he informed them, the unspoken 'Idjits' so heavy they could have drowned in it “But since the fluffball's more canine then demon I could probably find something.”  
Dean visibly relaxed in his seat “That's awesome. Because I'd dearly love to be able to drive Baby without having that thing trying to tear out my jugular every five minutes.”  
“What do you mean it's more canine then demon?”  
Dean blinked and glanced over at Sam in surprise to find him frowning at the older hunter. The other hunter's words finally caught up with him “How do you know that?!” he exclaimed, green eyes widening as he turned back to Bobby.  
“There is a devil trap right outside my front door, Idjit. If it was a demon you wouldn't have been able carry the thing in.”  
Sam stared down at the hell-beast in his lap in surprise as Dean leaned back in his chair to stare at the front door “When did you do that?” he demanded.  
“About a year ago.” Bobby told him, tapping the arm of his wheelchair pointedly. Shortly after they had found out about Sam's Demon Blood addiction, actually. He had put it up in the hope that Sam wouldn't be able to leave as long as he was still being affected. Which clearly hadn't worked.  
The Hell-beast whined and twisted between Sam's restraining hands, left most head nipping at the fingers.  
Bobby tilted his head and frowned at the squirming creature “Scrawny little guy, ain't he. What have you been feeding it?” he asked, eyeing the hell-beast thoughtfully.  
Sam and Dean traded a startled look.  
“Uh. Well, you see.” Sam shrunk in on himself as Bobby raised his eyebrows pointedly “The thing is . . .”  
“We kinda figured it ate the souls of the damned or something.” Dean shrugged helplessly.  
“You mean you damn fool idjits haven't fed the thing!?” Bobby exclaimed in disbelief “Where the hell did you two leave your brains?” he spun his chair around and rolled himself into the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge he grabbed a pack of ground beef. He then slammed the door shut and grabbed a plate from the nearby cupboard. Ripping open the packet, he dumped it on the plate and turned back the the brothers who had followed him sheepishly to the kitchen “Here. Put that on the floor and see if he likes it.” he commanded.  
Dean took the plate as Bobby rolled around the table. He put the plate on the floor and shot Sam an uncertain look “You think it's safe to release that thing?” he asked doubtfully, eyeing the devil-mutt.  
Sam shrugged helplessly “At this point I don't think it makes a difference.” he sighed and set the pup down.  
“Whoa.” Dean backed away quickly as the hell-hound shot forward. He blinked in surprise as the devil-mutt ignored him completely and began to chow down on the raw meat “Huh, guess the little guy was hungry.”  
“Guess so.” Sam agreed and Dean carefully skirted around the mutt as the two retreated from the kitchen.  
Bobby, who was sitting by the desk, looked up at them as they reentered the room “Sam, grab me that skinny green book from the top shelf over there.” he ordered, gesturing over his shoulder “It's the one with the Gaelic on the cover.”  
“Why is your dog-training book in Gaelic?” Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow at him  
“Because it's not a dog training book, ya idjit.” Bobby groused, shooting him a look “I've got a hunter in Pennsylvania in a tight spot and I can't reach a third of my library, so you're my arms now. If you want to learn how to keep the puffball from ripping your face off, that book's in the upstairs closet.”  
The brothers traded a look, eyeing each other for a moment before Dean shrugged “Well, I'll go get it then. You need anything while I'm up there, Bobby?”  
“Nah. But when you get back down you can throw on some chili for dinner.” He told him, taking the book that Sam handed him.  
It took a bit of looking but Dean finally found the book in a box at the back of the closet. It was a hardback whose shredded dust-cover fell off as he picked it up and most of the pages had yellowed with age. The worn cover sported the brown ring of a coffee mug and the faded doodle of a flower in one corner.  
Dean headed back downstairs to find Bobby on the phone  
“Yeah. Well, that's sometimes how things work out.” Bobby waved him towards the kitchen and glanced down as Sam held out a book, pointing to a certain point on the page “The good news is that if it is the Sluagh they are most likely are vulnerable to salt and iron.” the older hunter suddenly scowled and slammed a hand on his desk in frustration “Of course I get it! Just cover the windows and pray it's just the restless dead and not a fallen angel after your hide!” Bobby shot a look at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh as Sam settled back onto the couch.   
Dean shot his brother a questioning look. Sam met his gaze, a considering look passing over his face for a moment before coming to a decision. He caught Bobby's attention as he rose to his feet and gestured toward the kitchen.   
The older hunter gave a brisk nod of understanding. “Well, it couldn't hurt to try. We are in the middle of Armagedden. There might be one flying around that wouldn't mind a quick smiting.” he said as Sam moved to join Dean in the kitchen “Yeah, well they don't exactly instill confidence. Of coarse I will, what do you take me for?.  
“That the hunter Bobby was researching for?” Dean asked in a low tone, shooting a guarded look at the fluffy white hell-beast curled up beside the empty plate as he made his way to the cabinets.  
“Yeah, Cutter Eikstin. Apparently he's hunting something called a Sluagh.” Sam explained as he knelt down to grab a pot and some bowls from the lower cabinets as Dean opened one of the uppers and grabbed a can of chili “It's a little unclear if their supposed to be ghosts, Fae or fallen angels. But everything we found say that the best way to defend yourself is to cover all west facing windows so they can't get in.”  
Dean paused with the cabinet door still open and glanced over his shoulder where he could hear Bobby getting quite heated with the person on the other end of the phone. Eikstin apparently.  
“Sounds like he's giving Bobby a hard time.”  
“Well, being trapped in a hunting cabin by a horde of soul stealing supernatural entities with only a flip phone tends to make people crabby.” Sam placed the pot on the stove-top and shot a look back towards the living room where Bobby had lowered his voice to a near whisper “Also, Eikstin brought his fifteen year old daughter Olive with him. She's trapped there too.”  
“Dude brought his kid with him on a dangerous hunt like that?” Dean demanded as he opened the can, green eyes narrowing in judgment.  
“He thought it was just a poltergeist. Seems he was trying to ease her into hunting.”  
Dean shook his head, judgmental rage fading from his face as he poured the chili into the pot and turned it on “Does Bobby know them? Like personally, I mean?” he asked  
Sam leaned back and braced himself against the counter “Yeah. He met the Eikstins about ten years ago I think he said. Demon killed the mother and grandparents during thanksgiving dinner.”  
“That's rough-” he broke off as a high pitched whine suddenly sounded from the floor. They both looked down to see the hell-mutt sitting up and staring into the living room as it continued to whine piteously. A second later Bobby cursed loudly and there was the sound of a phone being slammed angrily into its holder.  
Sam and Dean shared a wide-eyed look, not sure what to do.  
A minute later the need to decide was taken out of their hands when Bobby rolled into the kitchen looked pissed as hell.  
“Everything ok, Bobby?” Sam asked, eyeing the older man in concern.  
“Oh, yeah. Everything's fine.” the older hunter groused sarcastically, eyes flashing “Eikstin's just an ungrateful bastard who never listens to a damn thing I say. Not that it stops him from calling me up at all hours.” his green eyes flicked over the two younger men and he nodded his head at the pot “That stuff ready yet?” he asked  
Dean blinked and glanced back at the pot “Yeah. Yeah, it should be ready soon. Sammy, get the bowls on the table, would you?”  
Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname and grabbed the bowls he had placed on the counter. He placed one on the table as the older hunter maneuvered his chair into place, setting the other plates down so that the two brothers could sit on either side of him.  
Dean spooned the chili into the bowls and returned the pot to the stove before sitting down. The two young men attacked the food in front of them like a pair of ravenous vamps at a blood bank, practically inhaling the food.   
It would probably have turned anyone else off their meal but the older hunter was used to it. Most hunters tended to forget to eat while on the job. It a lot of them tended to puke their guts out after the first few times they found a monsters leftovers. It was also an extremely draining job, both mentally and physically. It was just part of being a hunter of the supernatural. Like with most things, he was used to it and had found ways to deal over the years. He had found that, more often then not, a hot bowl of chili could perk someone back up the quickest.  
Bobby took a bite of said meal and glanced over at the three headed dog laying on the floor of his kitchen. The small Hell-beast flopped over on its side as he eyed it. Its tail wagged slowly in contentment, thudding against the cabinets as it sank to the floor. The right head yawned widely before it curled itself up into a ball. The little devil-mutt was certainly making itself at home. It really was quite adorable oddly enough. He wouldn't have thought anything that came out of the pits could be anything but terrifying to look upon. A sudden thought struck him and Bobby shot a curious look at the brothers “So, has the hell-spawn got a name?”  
Sam and Dean both glanced up from their chili, wide eyed, and shared a look. Dean blinked and swallowed the mouthful he had been chewing “I've just been calling it Hell-mutt.” he grinned, looking quite pleased to have solved the problem so quickly.  
Sam stared at him in outraged disbelief “What? No! It need a real name, Dean.”  
“Ok, fine.” Dean huffed with a put upon sigh and looked down at the three headed creature fast asleep against the cabinets in thought. He suddenly pointed his finger, eyes lighting up “I got it. Sadie.”  
Sam's eyebrows jumped and he nodded slowly, considering. That could actually work.  
“Short for Satan.”  
Sam's face dropped into an annoyed scowl “No. I am not naming my dog after the devil!”  
Dean frowned, very close to pouting at having his idea rejected “Fine. How about Cujo?” he suggested, scooping up another spoonful of chili and taking a bite.  
Sam shot him an unimpressed look “A homicidal dog from a Steven King story? Well, that's just perfect! Really imaginative.”  
The older brother shot him an annoyed look as he swallowed his food “Go easy on the sarcasm there, Sammy. You'll sprain something.” Dean deadpanned grumpily “It's a three headed hell-beast we got from the literal devil. What are we supposed to call it? Fluffy?”  
Sam sighed, a put upon look spreading across his face “I don't know. Something that doesn't make it sound like its going to rip your throat out.”  
“How about Maleficent? Vader? Or Frankenstein? Godzilla?”  
“What about 'Not Evil' aren't you getting?” Sam demanded in frustration  
“They weren't all evil.” Dean snapped back defensively “Godzilla was just big!”  
“How about Spot?”  
The brother blinked in surprise and turned to stare at the older hunter.  
“Spot.” Dean repeated in a flat tone “You want to call it Spot. It doesn't even have spots.”  
“That could actually work.” Sam sad thoughtfully and raised his arms in defense when Dean turned to him with an incredulous look “The latinized form of the Greek Κερβερος does roughly translate to spotted. And in Greek myth Cerberus was a three headed dog that guarded the gates of hell.”  
Dean raised his eyebrow at that “Nerd.” he muttered, rolling his eyes fondly “Fine, you win. We'll call it Spot.” he relented with a sigh. He rose to his feet and dumped his bowl in the sink before heading back to the living room. Dean paused in the doorway and pointed a warning finger at the other man “Just to be clear: if Spot the Hell-hound rips out my throat I am so haunting your asses.”  
Sam and Bobby stared at him for a moment then traded a look.  
“Ok.” Sam said, turning his back to him.  
“That's valid.” Bobby agreed, taking a sip of his beer.  
“Yarf!”  
Dean blinked and looked suspiciously down at the Hell-Hound. The left head stared up at him, plumed tailed thumping against the floor as it wagged.  
It was almost like they were gaining up on him.  
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned away. Looked like this would be his life now and in all honesty he didn't mind so much.  
Now wasn't that a scary thought.


End file.
